It’s hard to believe that Confessions of a Love Addict is four years old today.
I get those damn butterflies in my stomach every single time I think of how far this blog has come in the past few years. And my heart feels like it’s about to burst when I think of how blessed I am that you all come back to read my thoughts, hear about my adventures and stick with me through any breakup, job change or difficult time.
I know I’ve thanked you before, but let me do it again:
At 2 a.m. on a Saturday night last summer, The Canadian walked into my life. He waited for the creepy guy hovering over me to head to the bar, and then he slipped right in as he said, “You’re the prettiest girl here, why are you talking to him?”
If I’m being honest (which I always try to be on this blog), I’ve been kind of lame lately.
My friends would probably agree – especially since they’re always coming up with fun things to do – but this summer, I’ve had so much going on that going out hasn’t really been on the top of my mind.
So maybe that’s why last Saturday night felt a little strange to me.
I was sitting with my new friend (and roommate!), C at a bar seriously lacking men in the West Village on Saturday night, trying to figure out why my stomach was in knots. While I’ve been single the last three years, I have experienced that same night over-and-over again: dinner followed by bar hopping, followed by possible drunken kisses with cute strangers, followed by a late night in and an early morning up, cursing the hangover gods for their cruel intentions.
But last Saturday, something felt different.
The first rule of online dating is to keep your boobs off the internet. The second rule is to never, ever (EVER!) text too much before meeting your match in real life. And maybe don’t commit to dinner with someone you’ve never met offline, either. I learned the latter two lessons after going on what I consider one of the very worst dates in my life (the guy who cried was a bad one too. And the one that blatantly asked if I shaved my you-know-what 20 minutes into drinks—but more on those real winners later).
I connected with Jordan on OkCupid—and his first message to me was uncharacteristically charming. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but it was enough for me to click on his profile and go through the mental checklist I always use to determine if I want to respond or not:
If there’s anything that’s annoying to hear after years of flying solo, it’s that friend-of-a-friend who excitedly says, “OMG, I have the PERFECT person for you. He’s great. Can I set you up?”
I never know the right way to accept or decline the offer, so I usually just nod and smile, remember my Southern social graces and allow my number to be passed on. My mentality is usually, hey, if he makes a move, I’ll go out with him. It can’t hurt to add another one to the long list of could-be boyfriends, right? So when I heard from Luke only 12 hours after this friend-of-a-friend sang my praises, I was pleasantly surprised to learn—via text—that he was actually…kind of awesome?
I’m so excited to announce my new weekly dating column for WomensHealthMag.com. Check out my first post below!
I’ll never forget my first date in New York City.
I was 19 years old and interning at a women’s magazine, living in my college’s loft at 24th and Park for the summer. I had imagined myself much more mature than I actually was, and because my fake ID (sorry mom and dad!) said that I was 21, I spent a lot of time at bars post-interning hours. It was at some bar in Murray Hill that I met Joseph—a 28-year-old finance guy.
During the summer in New York, right around 8 p.m., as we’re heading off to indulge in sangria and sunsets, there is an orange shadow that cascades across the streets, beaming off the buildings, and leaving everything it touches with a crisp, bronzed haze. It is one of my favorite moments in the city all-year-round, and regardless of where I am or who I’m with, just seeing the amber reflection is enough to distract my attention and make me take a big breath.
I was thankful for a moment of clarity before meeting Mr. Unexpected for a celebratory sushi and sake date on Friday night, after a very long, very exasperating week. I had a hard time sleeping every night last week, my nerves never calming down from the many changes of the past few months circling in my head and enticing my heart to race. And though I always get a little anticipant to see Mr. Unexpected, once we start talking, he has a certain way of calming me down, too. Sitting across from him, with the citrus sun still radiating above us, I took another big breath of pure stress release.
In fact, I’ve been reminding myself to breathe a lot lately.
To say this year has been ripe with change, expenses and new experiences would be a vast understatement. If anyone would have told me all of the things that would happen in 2014, I would have never believed them.
Just to recap:
- My dad had unexpected heart surgery at the start of the year.
- I had my last day at iVillage – after three years – on a Thursday in April.
- The next day, I left for a 10-day trip to Paris and Rome with my mom.
- Two days after I got back, I started my exciting, challenging and entertaining job at WEtv.com.
- Then I got in – via raffle – to the NYC marathon.
- Two weeks later I met who I thought would be my roommate for an October 1 move date.
- Then I realized my lease ended on September 1. (You know, when I’ll be in London visiting J for a week.)
- Which means I would have to move by August 15.
- Two weeks later, I met Mr. Unexpected.
- 20+ dates later, we are an actual thing.
- The roommate, who I thought would be moving with me, couldn’t anymore.
- I decided that I couldn’t possibly train for the marathon, go on a big trip, do well in my new job and find an apartment and train for the marathon. So I backed out.
- So with a month to go to find an apartment, I somehow found two roommates.
- And a subletter for my current apartment – for just a month.
- I signed a lease yesterday. To move to the East Village!